Fantasy
by xXLiquidSugarXx
Summary: Harry Potter, boy who lived. He dreams up Hogwarts to escape his Hellish life in a gang.  Tom Riddle. Police officer assigned to bring that gang down, not only for justice, but for revenge.  Worlds collide as they look for the "Philosopher's Stone".
1. Prologue

**Here I am, back with a different category of fanfiction. Sorry to everybody who wants me to update Darkness of Hearts, but that'll have to wait for a little bit. **

**Warnings: This story contains rape, underage m/m sex, and drugs. This is a 16+ story, and meant for mature audiences only. **

**Disclaimer: If I was JK Rowling I would be writing next gen novels, not AU fanfiction.**

Rain pounded against the empty streets, creating rivers that ran into officer Riddle's shoes. His dark hair was plastered to his face and dripped into his eyes, but he made no move to flick it out of his face. He was haunted. Haunted by the image of a child with blood running down his face, haunted by the thought that two hours ago he had been about to make the biggest move of his career when it came crashing down.

He was no police officer, he was a murderer.

Two hours ago he had been standing outside the Potter's apartment, ready to take down Dumbledore's most loyal, most trusted underlings. His breath had come in frozen bursts in the cold October air that lay in Godric's Hollow. The light from the apartment's window was the only thing that lit the scene of Tom standing in front of the door with his fingers clinging to his cold pistol.

He should have called for backup. Then what happened next would have been prevented. He would be getting that promotion, and his dear Bellatrix would be happy.

Before he entered the house he pulled his hat down further over his dark curls and took a deep breath, he thought he could handle it. Then he kicked down the door and entered hell.

The Potters had been sitting on their couch when the door had come crashing down with a small squeal of protest from the long since rusted chain. Lily jumped off the broken and ripped brown couch and dashed into the other room while James picked up the pistol that lay on the coffee table.

"Drop you weapon and put your hands in the air. You are under arrest on the suspicion of drugs and human trafficking." Tom called, his voice steady despite the fear that coursed through his veins at having a firearm pointed at his head.

"You're the one he calls Voldemort aren't you." The scruffy looking man glared at Tom through red-rimmed eyes.

He chose not to answer but repeated what he said before. This only seemed to anger James Potter as his grip on the gun tightened.

"Put the gun down."

James' finger wrapped around the trigger, a crazed glint in his bloodshot eyes.

"I said put it down, now!" Fear was now evident in Tom's voice.

"No." James' finger tightened on the trigger.

**Bang!**

The dark haired man fell back with a bullet in his chest.

Tom Riddle stood with the smoking gun pointed at the space where James potter had previously stood. His eyes were wide with shock, and his ears were ringing with the gunshot.

James Potter was not the first man he had shot, but he was the first man he had shot in front of a child. Lily had dragged the young boy into the room just in time for him to see his father fall to the ground.

Lily Potter, once beautiful but now a distorted image of the girl she had once been grabbed her son and an empty bottle of beer while glaring at Tom.

"I've heard about you, Officer Riddle: Voldemort." She smashed the green bottle against the wall behind her and held it against the boy's face. "You'll kill anyone with connections to Dumbledore, but would you kill a child?" There was an evil glint in her eyes, a smirk twisted on her dry, cracked lips. The child cried as the glass cut his forehead. He pleaded for his mother to stop, but it fell on deaf ears.

Tom kept the gun raised, but felt horrible as he saw tears mingle with the crimson blood running down his face.

"The boy is innocent of your crimes, let him go."

"Or what? OR WHAT?" Lily shrieked, her body tightening in excitement and driving the bottle deeper into the boy's forehead. "You cant do anything! I will be loved and rewarded by Dumbledore for capturing you. The Order is on it's way! My Harry will be a prince! Prince of our city!"

In her excitement Lily had released the boy, who fell to his knees clutching his bleeding head. Tom saw the opening, and took the chance and fired. He meant to wound, but the body of Lily Evans fell to the ground in a puddle of blood to match the crimson of her hair.

What happened after that was a blur to Tom. The aftermath was filled with the screams and cries of Harry, and the blur of the blue uniforms of his comrades in the police. Somehow he drifted out of the house in a dreamlike trance, wandering down the cold streets. He barely noticed the rain soaking through his uniform shirt and chilling his skin.

"I'm no police officer, I'm a _murderer." _Tom whispered into the dying light of the streetlamp. His words hung frozen in a white cloud for a moment, but before they disappeared Tom Riddle was gone.

He would remain invisible for quite some time.


	2. Chapter 2

**I forgot to mention this in the first chapter, so before one of them beats me, bluerock500 and rinnalinn are the ones who came up with the idea, and I was voted to write it out and post it. **

**Warnings: This story contains rape, underage m/m sex, and drugs. This is a 16+ story, and meant for mature audiences only. **

**Disclaimer: If I was JK Rowling I would be writing next gen novels, not AU fanfiction.**

Harry James Potter. That was my name, or so they told me. I don't remember much of before. They tell me I'm seventeen. I guess I am. I'm the same size as Ron, and he's seventeen.

They are the Warthogs. They call themselves Family. I only remember the Pig-man and boy. And the lady who had a flower name. Petunia, I think it was. They tell me that they were mean. But my memories say otherwise.

I live in the Ring. It's called that because the common room is round, with all our rooms around it. The only time we use the rooms however is when we have clients. Otherwise we sleep in the common room.

I sat against the wall, still curled around myself. I had had one of the episodes again. I have dreams sometimes, after they give me Candy. Dreams where I'm rich. Dreams where Warthogs' home base is transformed into a castle called Hogwarts. I'm eleven in my dreams, and a wizard.

Hermione calls me crazy. She's always been the logical one. Right now she's curled up under one of the threadbare blankets with her book. Ron is sitting next to her and giving her that look again. The look that I've only seen a few times, but it is the look that leads to kissing and other things. I smiled, good for them.

A pale hand waves in front of my face. I look up at the owner. It's Ginny, our maid of sorts. She's Ron's sister and mostly helps her mother in the kitchen. Her scraggly red hair tickled my face as she bent over me and looked at me with concern in her dark eyes.

"It's the dream again, isn't it?" She says, handing me my long since cracked glasses.

"You're coming next year. You'll be able to enjoy the feasts too." I say dreamily. I am still under the impressions of the dream.

"Ok Harry." She pats me on the head and stands. I know she is going to ring the dinner bell so I untangle myself from the pretzel-like position I'm in. She doesn't believe me about the dreams. I think they're real. That I'm in some faraway place where the real Albus Dumbledore can't touch me.

The dull clang of the bell breaks the silence of the common room, and immediately all the kids jump up from whatever they were doing and run down the stairs that lead to our dining area.

The corridors are always dark, only little lamps that barely give off any light line the dirty walls. The stairs scream with the sound of twenty five pairs of feet scrambling down them. I stay towards the back of the group, as usual. I dislike crowds. I dislike a lot of things, actually. Like Slytherins.

I eventually made my way into the dining room and paused. It wasn't the dining room it _was the Great Hall, golden light surrounding hundreds of students at their house tables. There was a ridiculous amount of food piled on all four tables, sitting on golden platters. Candles floated through the air, suspended by nothing as everybody ate happily under a ceiling of stars. I'm was about to make my way down to where Ron and Hermione are sitting when I feel someone's hands on my shoulders shaking me._

"_Harry-_Harry!" A worried looking Neville is two feet in front of me, shaking my shoulders and causing my head to flop unpleasantly like a bobblehead. I put my hands on his arms to make him stop and he releases me with a sigh of relief. "You were just standing there, staring at nothing. It freaked me out!" And with that he takes my hand and leads me to the table and squishes me between himself and Ron. We sit at the Gryffindor table, against one wall, with the Slytherins on the opposite. Each table only holds about ten people, and there are four of them in the room. They make up our clans, our gangs, whatever you want to call them. Our clan colours are red and gold, though nobody has much gold around here, so we wear red armbands. Hufflepuffs are yellow, Ravenclaws are blue, and Slytherins are green. Whenever a new kid comes, the first thing they do among us is get tagged.

I sit and listen to the idle chatter. Most of it is about the new drug Snape is teaching us to make. Ever since I'd had a dream in his class of mixing potions, I have called it Potions class.

The chatter starts to get louder as heads crane to find any traces of food, as it hadn't been brought out yet. The unspoken question was answered when the door to the Order was swung open, commanding the attention of the room. Out sweeps Dumbledore. He stares at us through his half moon glasses, counting those present with his piercing blue eyes.

"Something has been hidden within our territory by a man who has found the recipe for the next great drug. The Philosopher's Stone of drugs. We want it as soon as possible. The person who finds this recipe will be inducted into the Order." He pauses to push his glasses back up his nose. I swear he looks straight at me as he does so, as if daring me to go find it. "The list of tonight's customers is in the lounge."

And with that he leaves. We are soon distracted, however, because Molly Weasly has emerged with a large pot with Ginny, and another blonde girl trailing behind with a vacant expression carrying bowls. Soon they are distributing a delicious smelling stew around the tables. The blonde girl places a bowl in front of me. I haven't seen her before and ask her why.

"Oh, well, I just got here yesterday. My name is Luna. I'm a bit too young to work the way you do so I'm helping Mrs. Weasly and Ginny in the kitchens for now. I think we will be friends." Her voice is breathy and distant, matching her expression. She skips back to the pot. I sigh, and begin to devour my dinner.

My name is on the list for tonight. With one of my usuals, Cornelius Fudge, written beside it. I don't know what relationship he has with the Warthogs, but I don't really care because he tips a lot. I figure he's a bigwig in politics.

I wave at Ron and Hermione as I disappear into my room to get ready. They were lucky enough to have the night off. Ron never got requested much anyways, his parents and brothers had enough influence to stop it from happening most of the time.

I look at the bed in the middle of the room and sigh. It's just like any other night, I strip myself of my clothing, turn down the lights to a sensual glow and sit down on the bed. I push my hand into the pillowcase and feel around for the small packet that lies in it. Finding it, I take one pink pill out of the package, place it on my tongue and wait for it to melt and send me to Hogwarts.

Before it completely melts, Fudge walks in as he always does: with a drunken swagger. His ever present bowler hat is askew on his head. His eyes hold something similar to hunger as he stares at my naked form. He advances on me, shedding clothes as he goes. He grabs my body and pulls it towards him, but I'm already lost in the dream. In the Hogwarts halls I can't hear the man above me grunt and moan in his ecstacy. I'm free and innocent.

Harry James Potter. That's my name. I'm a seventeen-year-old whore.


	3. Chapter 3

**Updates will probably be monthly, that way you'll be pleasantly surprised if I manage to put out a chapter every week and a half. Even though I love writing, I have a life to get to most of the time.**

**Warnings: This story contains rape, underage m/m sex, and drugs. This is a 16+ story, and meant for mature audiences only. **

**Disclaimer: If I was JK Rowling I would be writing next gen novels, not AU fanfiction.**

Tom Riddle looked around the dimly lit bar in search of someone. He was no longer a police officer, but still got calls from his friends still in the force about cases. That was why he was here now. A half empty bottle of beer sat in his hand but he didn't drink. A few young women tried to catch his eye by flashing their scantily clad chests in his direction, but he ignored them. Missions are more important.

Eventually he caught the eye of a man in a turban. The man made his way towards Tom and sat down in the stool next to him.

"G-glad you c-could m-make it." The man stammered as he smiled at Tom.

"You wouldn't have called me for nothing, Quirrell. What does the department want me to do?"

"Well, it's r-really, um, n-nothing much-"

"Tell me already!" Tom interrupted. He didn't have a lot of patience for the other man's speech impediment that day. Quirrell flinched and Tom softened his tone. "I just want to get home."

"Oh, um, y-yes. Of c-course. How is B-Bellatrix doing?" Quirrell caught the eye of an angering Tom and quickly changed back to the original topic.

"We have d-discovered that t-the W-Warthogs have a n-new d-drug. T-they c-call it P-philosop-pher."

"Right. New drug, very bad addiction rate and effects right?" Dark thoughts started to form in Tom's head. The Warthogs had decided to show their bastard faces again. This time he would bring them down. This time, for sure.

"R-right, b-but-"

"I'm on it. I'll be out there in the morning." Tom cut him off and rose from his cut up barstool.

"B-but Sir!" Quirrell rose with him, and tugged on his sleeve.

"What?" Tom snapped.

"T-there's s-something el-else…" Quirrel averted his eyes to anywhere but his former superior's own. Tom shot him an inpatient glare and folded his arms.

"T-the s-s-superior wants y-you to r-rejoin the f-force for t-this case."

"Fine. Whatever." Tom turned to go. "I'll be at the station in the morning."

Quirrell might have said goodbye, but Tom was lost in his own thoughts as he exited the bar for the dark streets.

The light on Tom's street flickered as he unlocked the door. The only light from the house blared through the thin white curtains that hung limply in the kitchen window. That could only mean one thing. And that was one thing Tom didn't want to face.

Slipping into the one storey home Tom flicked on the lights as he kicked off his dirty shoes. He calmly entered the kitchen, prepared for the sight in front of him.

Bellatrix was slumped over the kitchen table with an empty glass clutched in her hand, a bottle of whiskey within easy reach. Dark circles shrouded her eyes as she stared vacantly up at her husband. A small bit of drool hung from her lips.

It wasn't the first time Tom had come home to his wife like this, and it wouldn't be the last.

"Nagini's going to come home soon." Bellatrix slurred with a drunken grin. As always, she managed to convince herself that their daughter was alive when she was intoxicated.

Tom just took the glass out of her thin hands and placed in the sink.

"Our little girl, with her hair done in ribbons. She's always been pretty, hasn't she. Like her ma. And of course you as well, but mostly her ma." Tom screwed the lid back on the bottle of whiskey and placed it back in the liquor cabinet.

"Just a bit longer and our baby will be home. Then we'll play a game. She likes playing games. I got her a nice dress too! She can wear it when we go to the park." Tom wrapped a hand around Bellatrix's thin waist and pulled her out of the chair. The rough feeling of her threadbare bathrobe was familiar to his calloused hand, so was the smell of alcohol on her breath. As he walked her to their room, the bathrobe slipped off her shoulder, revealing one small, pale breast. Tom noticed, but didn't do anything to cover his wife. The thought of her no longer excited him as it once did.

Tom pulled back the faded covers and placed Bellatrix in the cold sheets. He covered her up in an indifferent way before retreating from the room and shutting the door behind him.

Tom paused outside the room, waiting until the drunken ramblings turned into soft snores. Sighing, he wandered into the kitchen, throwing the plates from dinner into the sink to sit with the glass from earlier.

The Warthogs had been the start of all this misery. First they had kidnapped Nagini and forced them to pay ransom for their little girl. It was revenge in a way. He had taken Sirius Black to prison earlier that month and they had lost a great asset. But so had they. Tom's friend Peter Pettigrew had been murdered by Sirius Black before the madman had gone on a rampage and killed thirteen others before Tom had brought him down.

Nothing had prepared him for what happened after.

Little Nagini, with her apple-cheeked smile and big green eyes had been taken after school, before Bellatrix had gotten there to pick her up. The only thing they had found there had been the green silk ribbons she had had tied in her hair, coiled in the dirt like emerald snakes.

Three days later, instead of their daughter alive and well on their doorstep they found a serious looking man in a somber suit.

Their little girl had been seven. Tom felt a warm tear slide down his cheek as he thought about her. The guilt would come back to him every time he came home to one of Bellatrix's stupors. It was his fault that Nagini was gone, that Bellatrix had resorted to drinking herself to sleep to forget the pain of losing their child.

He picked up a picture of the three of them, Nagini between her two happy parents.

Tom's hand shook as he stared down at the perfect reality in front of him. The reality that had been shattered eleven years ago. He'd been hunting the Warthogs ever since.

After a long moment he placed the picture face down on the countertop and walked away.

As he crawled into bed beside Bellatrix he wondered where this new lead would take him, and if this time, he would get his hands on Dumbledore.


	4. Chapter 4

**Promises of a monthly update failed miserably. First, My seventeenth birthday came and passed with rough and tumble. Then after I started writing the chapter my horse threw me, injuring the both of us. Then school bogged me down with last-minute projects and tests. Now my family has dared me to write a novel over spring break… **

**Warnings: This story contains rape, underage m/m sex, and drugs. This is a 16+ story, and meant for mature audiences only. **

**Disclaimer: If I was JK Rowling I would be writing next gen novels, not AU fanfiction.**

I walk down the dirty streets, heading to the Quiddich pitch. I'm still deep within Warthog territory, and I can see a member of the Order every so often as they scout for any _dark wizards, the Death Eaters. They're coming to get us and use their dark magic to take ov- _No, no. Not wizards. They are checking for police, I can see it in the way they shift their eyes up and down the alleys and streets.

One comes towards me, purpose fills his stride as he thunders down the grey street. By the way his trench coat drapes his thin body I can tell it's Snape before I see the grease of his hair. He glares as he passes, his pupilless black eyes locked on mine. I can see the hate in his eyes. I know he doesn't like me. I think it has to do with past dealings in the circle. Maybe my parents-if I had parents-got into bad business with him.

After a moment of hesitation from each of us he passes, and I continue on my way down the alley. Hoots and calls beckon me down the trash-lined streets. I am late, but the rest of my team wont care, they know I will always win the game for them.

I tie my red scarf around my head as I emerge onto our pathetic playing field. A ring of boxes and smelly black garbage bags mark our field. Three trashcans on two sides of it mark out the goal. The blue-clad Ravenclaws danced around their side of the field. Madame Hooch, our outdoor watcher, tries to settle the crowd of the circle and Order members without luck. People are standing around the ring and jumping on the gray-blue dumpsters. Cheap beer is shared and spilled among them. I leap over the barriers and join the group of red-clad Gryffindors.

"Took you long enough, mate." Fred, Ginny and Ron's older brother throws a gangly arm around my thin shoulders and pulls me in close.

"We were beginning to think someone doused you on your way over." George, his twin, catches me from the other side, and together they march me over to the starting line. In the middle lies an old, worn basketball, and two no longer white baseballs. The third ball, a yellow bouncy ball that was closer to a shade of brown with all the dirt on it, was hidden somewhere in a block radius. The arena was mostly for the chasers.

Quiddich is a game invented years ago in the circle. There are four balls, seven players on each team, and almost no rules. Three chasers on each team fight for the basketball and try to score by throwing it in one of the opposing team's three trashcans. The cans are guarded by a keeper, the most bloodied player by the end of the game. There are two beaters on each team. They use the old, hardened baseballs to beat the opposing team's players. Then there is my job. I'm a seeker. I have to find the bouncy ball that one of the Order members hides before game start. I have to find it before the other team seeker, and only once I've brought it back to the arena is it game over. The "golden snitch" as some call it is worth one hundred and fifty points, usually guaranteeing the finder's team a victory.

I place myself behind Fred and George and wait for the whistle to blow. I see the Ravenclaw seeker do the same. Her name is Cho Chang. She's very pretty, but I know she has her sights set on a man in the Order.

As the whistle blows I tense, then flee. I sprint past the crowd and fly down the alleys while keeping my eyes peeled. _I'm flying. I love the feel of the broomstick in my hands. The best money can buy. I fly high above the quiddich pitch in search of the small winged ball. There are hundreds of people in the stands, waiting for me to catch the ball. Suddenly there is pain that blossoms in my arm. I spare a glance at the limb as it swells beneath my arm guards before looking up at the Ravenclaw beater who sat on his broom with his beater's bat poised for another strike. I quickly fly away in a zigzag pattern in hopes that he wont get me again, but the bludger makes contact with the back of my head and I'm falling off my broom, falling, falling falling- _Until my palms met the pavement and the old brown baseball rolls further down the alley. Pain shoots up the arm that had had been hit by the ball before. Ignoring it, I scramble to my feet and run.

It isn't too long after my encounter with the beater that I find the bouncy ball. It's only just visible underneath some trash bags. I bend over and pick it up, wiping away some of the dirt and grime encrusted on it. As I turn to run back to the arena I see something out of the corner of my eye. It's a man, but it's no Order member. It takes me a moment to realize that it's a black shirt that he's wearing. Over it is the familiar vest worn by death eaters. I take a step back, and the man knows he's been spotted. I blink and he's gone. I keep staring until the throbbing in my arm reminds me that I'm still in the game, and the beaters can still get me.

I sprint all the way back to the arena, leaping wildly over the people and stuff that line the arena. I stand in the center to cheers from the crowd and my team. My name is called in a cheer that echoes through the abandoned buildings around us.

"Potter! Potter! Potter!"

I smile. I forget about the _death eater_ as I'm swept up by the crowd.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Exams, Exams, I really hate EXAMS! I'm in highschool, yet have already taken one exam, am studying for another in two weeks, and then have the rest a few weeks after that. Stress over long periods of time, what fun. Therefore there will be only very rarely be an update (unfortunately) for the next two months. **

**Warnings: This story contains rape, underage m/m sex, and drugs. This is a 16+ story, and meant for mature audiences only. **

**Disclaimer: If I was JK Rowling I would be writing next gen novels, not AU fanfiction.**

Days, weeks, months. And yet they were no closer to the mixture of ingredients, and the drug was spreading farther and father with the Warthogs' territory at the dead center. It was like they were mocking him. Laughing in his face.

Tom was angry.

No, he was murderous.

The people on this drug were a sorry mess of who they used to be, and completely dependant after just one dose. Hallucinating a fantasy world, where all their dreams came to life. He had visited a user in the hospital, after they had been sent by their family, and had come across a man mumbling about pirates and adventure on the high seas. He was rocking back and forth of his rumpled bed and smiling like a child on Christmas.

It was disgusting.

Then they had decided to change the name of the drug for the police. They were supposed to call it Fantasy. Because it will make all your fantasies come to life. Because the people in charge of these things were sick fucks.

Tom gritted his teeth and clenched his fist, effectively snapping the pencil that was in is grasp. The loud crack that resounded brought him out of his thoughts and into reality, staring down at the broken pieces of wood and lead in his hand.

"Everything alright, Sir?" A blond head poked around the corner of the small cubicle divider.

"Everything's fine, Lucious. Just thinking how much I hate doing paperwork." Tom let the pencil's remains slide off his hand into the mesh wastebasket that lived under his desk.

"Alright then, Sir," The blonde head retreated back from whence it came and the scratching sound of writing could be heard once more.

Tom picked up another pencil and returned to making notes on the file in front of him. They had caught several members of the Warthogs' upper levels handing out Fantasy in little green pills and he now had to fill out their papers. Again.

They were the papers for one Cedric Diggory and the girl Cho Chang. They had been caught once before, but their crime then was petty theft from a 7-11 and they had only been held for a few days after being fingerprinted and the rest. Now they had been caught selling drugs for the Warthogs. Two scruffy young adults who had thrown away their lives to be in the gang, or they could have been taken in. They could have families who missed them, but Tom didn't want to go looking about for the parents of the two drug pushing children. He didn't want to hear the families' joy at finding their child to be ruined with the news that they were going to prison for at least ten years. He didn't want to hear the mother's tears-they would remind him too much of Bellatrix's own as she called for their baby girl.

He scraped his hand over his face, feeling the stubble starting to emerge on his skin. He hated the feeling.

He'd finally set his pencil to the paper when the phone on his desk rang.

"Officer Riddle," Tom answered curtly.

"It's Crabbe, I think I've found the place where they keep the children."

"Oh?" Tom placed his pencil on the memo pad that lay just beneath the black panel of the phone's cradle. "I'm listening."

"About two blocks into the territory I came across the kids playing some sort of game. When it all ended they went back to a small apartment building. Three stories. Grey exterior and graffiti of a snake, a badger, some sort of bird and what I think is a griffon, one on each side. I couldn't get anything else, one of their Order spotted me and I had to bolt."

"Good job, Crabbe," Tom finished scribbling on the memo pad and tore the sheet off. "I think a round of drinks are in order for this discovery."

And with that he hung up. After taking a deep breath he stood and picked up the memo paper. He slapped it down on Lucious' desk and told him to give it to the chief before picking up his black coat from the rack and throwing it on as he exited the police station. Before going to the pub with the boys he had to make sure Bellarix had taken her medications. He hated episodes like the night weeks before, where she would insist Nagini was alive and well. Like she was tucked in bed with her old pink stuffed bear.

The drive in the darkening evening was monotonous as always and the house looked as uninviting as ever. The curtains were drawn, though a faint glimmer of light shone through them.

Sighing he pulled himself out of his car and into his house. He was greeted by loud fake laughter emanating from the TV set. Bellatix lounged on the faded blue and white sofa, staring at the TV with an expressionless look on her face. A random sitcom was playing at high volume and she sat there, with her wild hair covering her thin face with a blank look in her eyes.

"Bellatrix, my dear, time to take your medicine." Tom gently helped her into a sitting position and brushed the curly hair away from her face. He then fetched a glass of water and her medicine. He gently placed a small white pill and a small blue one into her palm, and set the glass of water in the other. With gentle coaxing he got her to swallow the pills and drink the glass of water.

The blank look was still in her eyes as he stood and backed away from the couch. The fake laughter still mocked him from the television set. The house was still cold and uninviting. He left the glass in the sink and with one last glance at his unresponsive wife closed the door behind him.

Driving to the pub took Tom close to the Warthogs' home base. The near-abandoned ghetto stood in grey silence as he drove past. The streets were dark and empty. Tom just turned the radio up louder, to calm his nerves or to hear the whiny lyrics of today's pop hit, he would never tell.

A slight bit of movement was what made Tom slam on the brakes at the right time. A boy in his late teens jumped out of an alleyway into the road, glasses catching the glare of the headlights and reflecting it back at Tom. He stood for a second or two in front of the car and stared at Tom for a few moments before continuing on his way. Before he had gone, however, Tom had seen a lightning bolt shaped scar on the boy's forehead.


	6. Chapter 6

I hate the Ring. I hate Dumbledore. I hate being drugged. I hate having to fuck anybody that wants me.

I also hate Draco Malfoy. The slimy git. He thinks he can be rescued from this hell.

"_My father will hear about this" He cries as a teacher scolds him for fighting with me in the hallway. His usually crisp robes are disarrayed and his slicked hair falls in a greasy clump over his red face. I laugh to Ron and Hermione. I always come off the winner in an argument with Malfoy. They each take an arm and we're headed back to the common room where…_ The bathroom door is close, but I don't think I'll make it. The drugs are fighting to be free of my system. Or my system is fighting to be free from the drugs.

Ron and Hermione drag me faster once my legs stop working.

I can hear Malfoy laughing at me from somewhere, but I don't make a witty comeback when my mouth opens. Instead, I feel like my stomach has ripped itself away from my belly and is forcing its way up my throat.

It's not that different from the truth anyway.

Bile spills from my mouth and slides across the dirty wood floor. I can hear Ron gag and Hermione try to comfort me. I falls on deaf ears, because all I care about is the burning, biting pain that is spreading through my limbs.

I'm shaking, but I can't recall why. I'm being held, but I can't recall by whom. I spin, and darkness blurs the edges. I think I'm saying something, but before I can hear my own words I'm slipping into a familiar blackness.

I wake up in the bed. I am chained to it by my left ankle. So I'm not going to find the familiar drug in my pillowcase. I guess I must have had too much last time. That must have been why I was sick.

I play with the worn and faded scarlet bedspread for a while, until the door swings open. It's Oliver Wood, the former captain of the Gryffindor, or red Quiddich team. He's an Order member now, and he's requested me for the evening. We used to have a brotherly relationship. I feel disappointed.

I take myself away as Oliver takes off his pants. I guess there's a reason he's called Wood. He climbs on my bed and I disappear.

_I have a cloak. It makes me invisible. I love my cloak, because it lets me sneak around the castle at night. I can do almost anything I like. Also, there's enough room for Ron and Hermione to come with me on my adventures._

_I find a fantastic mirror. It shows me my parents. I can see my mother, she is beautiful and kind. My father is handsome and strong. He looks like me. _

**Hey everyone, sorry its been so long. Like months. :S I feel like a horrible person.**

**But in my defense, I was away, at a convention, then at a horse show where I came off and hurt myself. All in all, an eventful summer.**

**But don't listen to me, that's not what you clicked on the link for! ON WITH THE STORY**

_The next time I bring Ron. Together we make our way through the bowels of the castle to the secret mirror. I try to show him my parents, but he sees himself. He sees himself as the top of the school. Better than his brothers, to whom he constantly feels comparison. We figure that the mirror shows us what we want. _

_Hermione warns us to stay away from it. We don't often ignore Hermione's logic._

When I wake up, I'm on the bed, but I have been unchained. Oliver is gone. It is quiet outside the room. I put on my raggedy jeans and my shirt from yesterday. They smell like dirt and sweat, but so does everything else. I walk out into the Ring and nobody is there. Well, Neville Longbottom is there, but he is lying on his back snoring. I hear a quick shuffling of feet and a thud of a body being shoved into a wall. I look down from the shadows at the top of the staircase to see two Order members, Snape and Quirrel, whom I don't like much. Snape had the smaller man pinned against the wall with one hand and the other was pointing in the small man's face. They speak quietly, though fiercely to one another.

I strain my ears to pick up on their conversation, but nothing travels up the dark staircase. It doesn't matter, their argument ends quickly and I can hear them shuffling off. I wait a few more moments before descending the stairs. They creak beneath some people, but I can step down with naught but the rustle of my raggedy pants.

A surprise waits for me at the bottom, however.

Snape is still standing in the shadows of the room, and he apparently finds me the perfect target for the rage still flowing through him.

"Potter! What are you doing in the building at this hour?" His oily voice washes over me. I swear I can feel myself becoming more greasy as each syllable leaves his lips.

"I had business last night. I was sleeping it off."

"Don't lie to me boy! You act just like your father! Worthless and lazy." Snape smirkes. "And you are well on your way to dying like him: A poor, pathetic fool."

Snape likes to tell me how much he hates me for my father. I think my father may have been a bully, but Snape is such a slimy git that I think he deserved whatever teasing he got.

I make a hasty exit past his stained black cloak and find my way to the sunshine. I think Ron and Hermione will be interested to know what happened between Snape and Quirrel. Maybe it has something to do with that Philosopher's stone thing.


	7. ADOPTION NOTICE

ADOPTION NOTICE!

Due to other fics taking my time, and the fact that it is difficult to write Fantasy, I'm putting my baby up for adoption to a good home.

Another contributing factor is that the two who challenged me to write this fic and gave me the ideas for it are no longer interested and it suddenly became my project alone when I had other fics to write and work to be done.  
For anyone interested, I have a road map of destinations for Fantasy, but not the actual journey planned out, so if anyone is interested I can at least offer that.

Terribly sorry,

LS


End file.
